


Wardrobe

by elenathen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenathen/pseuds/elenathen
Summary: Lindir dresses himself for his Lord





	Wardrobe

In the mirror, Lindir watches as the light from the window casts attractive shadows over his body. Angling himself slightly, his hip catches the golden light and draws all attention. Humming to himself, he lifts his hands to his hair, pushing it up prettily to the top of his head, bringing his hip back and observing the way that his waist slopes down, pale and glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

The door behind him isn't locked, even though he's nude and the day is far from over. Though doors are rarely locked in Rivendell, Lindir secretly hopes that his lover will enter at his own will; slipping in silently and taking him in his arms.

But Lord Elrond would never be so impolite, and despite Lindir's fantasy, he loves him for it. He loves everything about his Lord; from the handsome lines of his face to the gentle sounds he makes in his sleep. It is Elrond who he is primping himself for; smoothing his hands down his chest and legs, checking for knots in his long hair. He knows that Elrond would love him even if he were covered in mud and his hair was cut short, but he still aches to be beautiful for him. He would only have the best for his wonderful Lord.

Lindir turns away from the mirror, going to his closet and running his slim fingers over the soft fabrics of his robes. Many he deems too plain, or not flattering enough to present himself in before his Lord, although most of the others are gifts from Elrond himself. His fingertips ghost over the supple cloth of a dress far too revealing to wear anywhere aside from Elrond's private rooms. It brings a gentle smile to his lips, memories of when he first wore it for his beloved materializing in his mind like alluring tendrils of steam.  Allowing his thoughts to dwell for a few moments, he slips his hand down the sleeve of the dress before moving to touch another.

This is less scandalous, but he knows that Elrond likes it perhaps more than the other. He pulls it from the closet and moves back in front of the mirror, deciding if he should choose it for this evening.

A silk of rich purple; so dark it's almost black, it hugs his body in all the best places, draping in shimmering mystery over other areas. Trim of elegant gold lines the edges of the robe; an identical sheen to the gold lining that is always hidden so well by the purple. Turning in the light, Lindir chews at his lip as he considers it, looking at different angles before deciding that he'll save it for another time.

Returning to the closet, he places the robe back in its place and moves his attention to the rest of his options. Perhaps this embroidered cream gown? Or the soft pink one, with the lace that slips over his chest. Outside of his window, the sun begins to dip slowly as he makes his way through the contents of his closet, choosing and discarding robes and flowing negligees behind himself, the bright fabrics fluttering through the air like bright butterflies.  

With the majority of his clothes strewn across the room, he finally steps back from the closet with a stressed sigh. Glancing out at the window, he curses internally as he realizes how much time he has lost; looking back at the cavity in his wall as if it was going to tell him what to wear. Standing amongst the clothes, like discarded flower petals, he stares at the empty shelves in dismay, a thin plume of pale snow in all the colour.

A box draws his attention, tucked near the back of his closet but still visible. Out of ideas, he reaches in to get it, holding it against his chest to open the lid. Nestled inside the protective paper is a delicate lace set, intricate and in a shade of luxurious wine red. Pausing for a moment, Lindir considers it, letting his fingers trace over the stitches and designs of the lace.

He'd bought it on a whim while visiting Mirkwood, but hadn't felt comfortable enough to wear it yet. He had pushed it to the back of his closet and forgot about it, for he never truly intended to wear such a thing, but now he found himself reevaluating. Setting the box down on his bed, he bends to lift the top into his hands, holding it up in front of him for a few moments and then turning to the mirror.

Stepping closer to his reflection, he slips his arms into the thin straps, buttoning the back and looking curiously as it contours his chest with the red florals of the lace. Still undecided, the bottom half joins the top, sliding over his hips and sitting snugly just below his waist.

In the fading light, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by how the garment fits his slim form. The curves of his hipbones and the dome of his chest become softly enhanced by the delicate fabric, the deep colour of it making him appear paler in a striking contrast. Studying his reflection for a few moments more, Lindir decides to keep it on, though he feels a little hesitant to how Elrond would react to such a different kind of undergarment.

Finding a bottle of rosewater on his vanity, Lindir dots it gently under his jaw, rubbing it onto his wrists and at the tops of his thighs. A bone brush slides through his hair, turning it to spun gold when it catches the last rays of the dying sun before falling softly down his back. He smiles at himself in the mirror, feeling warm and fluttery in his chest.

The ends of his fingers drift up to his chest, tracing his collarbone and down the center of his chest, so similar to what Elrond loves to do. They slip lower, watched by his eyes in the pane of glass, brushing over his exposed skin and warming his body at each touch. Biting his lip, he imagines Elrond, his beloved, his heart, and what his hands would do to him in such an outfit, and it makes him shiver.

The cry of a thrush, exclaiming its evening song, shakes Lindir from his reverie, and his cheeks flush a delicate pink. He steals one glance at his reflection before hurrying to cover up with a pair of his ordinary day robes, hastily buttoning away his body. He wants to run to Elrond and strip away the clothes he just put on, already stifling in covering up his nakedness, but he knows that he can't leave his rooms in such a state. Dropping to the floor, he begins to gather up his discarded clothes, unable to hide the smile on his lips as he imagines what the night has in store for him and his beautiful lover. 

 

Throughout the evening meal, he lets himself ease out of professionalism very slightly, touching Elrond's knee under the table with his fingertips and letting their thighs rest together. It draws Elrond's attention, but Lindir only responds with an innocent, yet knowing, smile whenever he questions.

When they find their way to Elrond's wide chambers, Lindir is pulled gently into his lover's tender embrace. Their hands and lips find each other, and Lindir leans into the loving body of his Lord. He can feel the gentle caress of Elrond's fingers against his waist, and the brush of his breath against his neck, whispering adoring things to him.

"You smell of roses, meldanya," Elrond whispers, his lips ghosting against Lindir 's jaw. Lindir smiles lovingly and tilts his head to the side, guiding Elrond's hands up to the clasps of his robes.

"You may find more roses beneath these robes," he returns, pulling back to kiss at Elrond 's cheek.  "Let me show you, my love." He pushes Elrond gently down onto the bed, stepping in front of him and slowly undoing his robes. Moving his body sensually in a sort of dance, he smiles at his beloved and earns a loving smile back.

As his robes fall from his form, and his body is revealed to Elrond, Lindir knows, with a shiver of triumphant joy, that he chose the right flower.

 


End file.
